I'd seen the midwife the day before at my 38-week midwife appointment, so when I saw lots of little flashing lights flying past my eyes, like a motorway at night. I didn't bother calling anyone. Even when my feet ballooned up so big I couldn't even fit my husband's socks on, I never called anyone.

I saw the midwife again the following week at my 39-week appointment and told her about it. The protein level in my urine was sky high and my blood pressure was up. The midwife's calm toned vanished and she started asking lots of questions one after another. "Did we have our car with us?"; "Did we have the hospital bag?"; "Why didn't I call when it first started?"

I got time to reply that yes we had the car and no, we didn't have the bag. Still in a raised tone she told us to forget the bag and that we had to go straight to the hospital right now, and that she would call ahead and let them know we were coming. She then pushed us out the door with no more explanation.

We got to the car and I called my husband's parents to let them know what was happening and to make sure they could pick up our two dogs to look after while we were out.

I sat close to tears the whole way to the hospital but too scared to cry. I knew it was preeclampsia she thought I had, but nothing else. Why was I going to the hospital? For checks? To have an induction, or a Cesarean section? What was happening?

When we arrived at the hospital we almost ran down the corridor and explained quickly to the receptionist that we had been sent by the midwife. She showed us to a big empty room with lots of comfy couches and a big desk to sit and wait.

This was when my husband and I finally got to talk about what was happening. We had no idea, but figured if we'd been sent here so rapidly we must be in danger and the baby would be arriving very soon!

About 15 minutes later a nurse came in to say the doctor wouldn't be much longer and to check and see if we were OK. After another five or 10 minutes two doctors arrived in the room. He checked my pregnancy record and I went over everything that happened in the midwife's. He checked my blood pressure again and explained that they wanted to keep me in overnight to keep an eye on me and that they'd need to check my urine every time I went to the bathroom for 24 hours. Then they'd decide what they were going to do, possibly inducing me.

So I got put up in my own room in the maternity ward, at the other end from the women with their newborn babies. I gave the midwife a sample every time I went to the loo, read magazines and panicked my way through the whole night.

When I saw the doctor again he said they still weren't sure what to do, whether to leave me or induce me. By now I was happy to know that it wasn't immediately life threatening, but I was really annoyed that the midwife got me so wound up telling me nothing. They monitored the baby's heartbeat for an hour that day. I was already getting tiny contractions, but nothing I could feel.

At the end of the second day the doctor decided that it would be best to induce me, because the contractions were already starting and I could go anytime anyway, so it would be best if I were in the hospital. This was also five days before Christmas, and I think staff shortages were a factor. No one seemed overly worried about the preeclampsia, and I'm not sure if they ever decided if I had it or not.

At 8 p.m. that night I got the prostin tablet to start me dilating. The next morning at 8 a.m. I was taken to a delivery room with my husband beside me. I was checked by a doctor and despite only being 1 to 2 centimeters dilated they decided to break my waters. The doctor used a long hooked needle to break them and it was agony. I could feel her pulling my cervix apart to get two fingers and that needle in there. My husband had to hold me down and the pain threw me forward. Luckily it was the worst pain I felt in my labor.

Right after having my waters broken I got the IV drip and it was turned up and up very quickly. I started off on the birthing ball, first breathing deeply, then using the gas and air. But the gas and air made me dizzy and sick. I sat back on the edge of the bed to hold the sick bowl. I threw up between every contraction, which were coming about 10 seconds apart.

As the pain got worse and I got more and more spaced out I decided I couldn't keep using the gas and air. I needed something else. I didn't want the diamorphine, I wanted a clear head. I asked for an epidural and within a few minutes two doctors arrived to administer it. One stood in front of me and told me to put my arms around his neck and cuddle into his shoulder. I could have fallen asleep there. I breathed deeply, staying still and never even felt the needle, though my husband assures me it was some size!

It worked quickly and numbed me from my bra to my ankles. I was still aware of the contractions but they didn't hurt anymore. We listened to music and my husband had some sandwiches before the midwife tucked him under a blanket for a nap. I was so jealous!

Just before the epidural had been given I'd been checked over and told I was now 4 centimeters. Ninety minutes later I told the midwife I really wanted to push. I couldn't feel anything but I knew I wanted to. She didn't think I would be ready yet but right enough I was 10 centimeters and ready to push.

I pushed, not sure if it was working. It's hard pushing when you can't feel anything. I shouted all sorts of nonsense like "I need to poo" and "Get her out, please, I want orange juice." It was an incredible flood of emotions while pushing. One second I was laughing, then crying, then back to laughing.

I'd been pushing for 20 minutes when the midwife said, "One more push and the head should be out." Three pushes later and I felt it, not properly. My epidural was still working really well, but I felt the head come out, and one push more and she was completely out.

My husband was running up and down next to the bed shouting that he could see her. He'd started off saying he would stay at my head and didn't want to see but he got so involved, it was great. He cut the cord and she was handed to me where she got her first feed. It was a strange and brilliant feeling.

The midwives debated whether or not I needed stitches and in the end decided I needed two. So I lay holding her while she fed and my husband stroked her head while the midwife stitched me up. We had a beautiful little girl. She weighed 7 pounds, 10 ounces, and had been delivered when I was 39+5 days with a 9 score on the Apgar scale.

Although I had gone into my labor wanting a natural water birth with little or no pain relief I just let my body tell me what to do and changed my birth plan as I had to. I didn't get the water birth because I needed to be monitored, and I'm happy knowing I took an epidural rather than risking a traumatic overly painful birth experience.